So...it’s been a few months, but this is finally here! I hope you enjoy. Any comments, suggestions, likes or reblogs are appreciated!
I’ve created a Masterlist for the other chapters and any other fics I do. Let me know if you have any specific requests, whether it be prompts, certain scenes you would like to see or any pairings. My schedule is becoming more open, so I will have more time to write these fics!
Chapter 7 should be up tomorrow.
Chapter 6 NSFW(ish)
TW: Discussion of Sexual Assault
Cassian was speechless and Nesta wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. He’d said that he felt the same way just this morning, but what if he didn’t want her? What if despite what he felt he thought she was just too cold and too broken?
“Cassian,” Nesta started, her voice unsure. “I know that I’m hard to be around, stubborn and cold. I’m selfish and I judge others too often and I’ve done a lot of things I’m not very proud of. So I understand if you don’t want me—”
“Nesta I—”
“No, let me finish. There are many parts of myself that I need to face, to accept, and to heal. But this part,” Nesta pressed her palm to Cassian’s chest. “This part I want to heal with you.”
Cassian’s lips parted and he placed his hand over hers. His lips were inches from hers and his hazel eyes were burning. A storm raged within them.
“Nesta, I know who you are. And I want you, flaws and all.”
Nesta felt tears trail down her cheeks and closed her eyes as Cassian took her face in his hands and wiped them away with his thumbs. She curled her fingers in his shirt, bringing him closer to her.
Cassian spoke again, his voice hoarse with grief and longing. “The war took so much from us. It is going to take time for all of us to heal, but I don’t want to a lose another moment I could have spent with you.”
He crushed his lips to hers, warm and demanding, but gentle. Nesta dragged her hands through his dark hair and opened her mouth for him.
She kissed him with desperation, weeks of yearning pouring through her. Cassian moved his hands from her face down her shoulders and to her waist. He clutched the silk of her nightgown in his fist and wrapped his hands around her back, tugging her closer. Nesta walked into him, moving them towards the bed. Cassian fell back onto the mattress, pulling Nesta over him.
“Nesta,” he breathed into her mouth. She molded her body to his, covering it like that day against Hybern, only this time there was no threat against them, no injuries or wars or unsaid words keeping them apart. His hands trailed down her back, over her behind and gripped her thighs. He pulled her legs so that they were positioned on either side of him, so she could feel every inch of his desire against her. Her breathing was ragged and a wave of heat washed over her.
Cassian moved his lips to her throat and Nesta let out a soft moan.
“Nesta, do you want to—”
“Yes,”
Cassian gripped her thighs tighter at her answer. “We can stop any time you want--”
“I don’t want to stop, but there’s something I want to tell you first.” Nesta pulled away so she could see his face.
“Of course.” Cassian scanned her face, waiting patiently for her to continue.
Nesta took a breath to steady herself.Cassian swallowed and cleared his head of the lust-filled haze that had washed over him. He was still shocked she was even here with him, that she had opened herself up to him like this. He wanted her so bad it hurt, but he wouldn’t rush her, wouldn’t make her feel like she had to do anything. He remembered the way she had reacted those months ago at her family’s estate when he asked her if she’d ever been with a man. He tried not to let himself think about what might have happened to her, what some monster might have done. She would tell when she was ready, or she wouldn’t. It was her decision and he wouldn’t take that away from her by demanding she talk to him about it.
Nesta began to speak. “Back when I was human, I was engaged.”
Cassian couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. That was not what he was expecting to hear.
“I didn’t love him, but his family had more money than ours. Not much, but enough to have a hot meal every night. I knew I could never do what Feyre did—go out and hunt like that. I didn’t have the patience or the skill and I didn’t want to give my father another excuse to sit back and do nothing. I thought that if I married this man, I could get Elain and Feyre out of poverty, or at least gain our family enough social standing so that they could find decent husbands who would be able to care for them, maybe even find someone they loved.
“My fiancée’s father used to beat his mother, and he didn’t do anything to stop it. I had my own speculations. He was rough with me sometimes, grabbed my wrists too hard or my face when I turned away from him. Nothing extreme, but enough to make me wonder. Feyre confirmed my suspicions the night the Lord of Spring took her away. She told me not to marry him.
“The next week I broke off the engagement.” Nesta’s hands began to shake. Cassian took them in his own, rubbing circles across them in an attempt to soothe her, to distract himself from the dread he felt at hearing the rest of her story, of what might have happened.
Nesta stared at their hands. “He was angry and he—he tried to rape me.”
Cassian felt sick to his stomach, felt rage welling in his chest. He wanted to demand the man’s name, ask where he lived. Wanted to beg her to let him hunt the bastard down and kill him. Slowly.
But he saw the shadows in her eyes, saw her retreating into the memory. He didn’t want her to stay trapped in that darkness. He sat up so that their faces were only inches apart and gently lifted her chin so that she met his gaze.
“He said that he’d have me, married or not. That after he’d finished with me he’d go after Elain, and Feyre, too, if she ever returned. Until Hybern, I had never known such a fear—for myself and for my sisters. I clawed my way free before he got what he wanted, but in those moments he stole everything from me. My body, my mind, my very soul. I was ashamed, even though what he did and tried to do wasn’t my fault. I was scared, too—I was afraid he’d come back for me, or Elain.
“For a long time, I lost myself. It was worse after the Cauldron, when again my body was taken from me. And after that last battle with Hybern…I don’t know how long it will take, or if I ever will, but I want to try to put the pieces of myself back together. And I want to try and gain this piece back, with you.”
ToG- Vaughn he’s the only member of the cadre we have no background on.
omg I haven’t even realised this but you’re 100% right! What if there’s some secret history he has that we don’t know about? What if he surprises us all and actually helps Aelin escape?! Now I’m considering so many options.
Embers & Light (in progress):
Slow-burn healing fic for both Cassian and Nesta, starting from Nesta being sent to the Illyrian mountains by Feyre... Prepare yourselves for angst and yearning, bickering and flirting banter...
Summary: Nesta Archeron may be the unsung hero from the war with Hybern, but since then, she has felt nothing but hollow. Suffering from a battle trauma so fierce it knocks the breath out of her, Nesta spends her days drinking, bedding males and spending the Night Court coffers to block out the memories of cracking bones and rolling heads. Until... enough is finally enough and her sister and High Lady, Feyre Archeron, exiles her to the Illyrian mountains to live with Cassian - the one male who has always managed to get under her skin. Thrust into a culture in the midst of dissent, Nesta is made to face the darkest parts of herself, as well as the magic that roars in her veins, to figure out who she is and who she will become on the road to recovery.
One-shots
Of Books & Timber (one-shot from the Embers & Light universe):
A one-shot where Cassian builds Nesta some bookshelves in Illyria (or a missing scene from Embers & Light). You don’t need to have read E&L to understand this fic.
Kernels of Truth (one-shot, CANON):
A missing scene from ACOFAS, when Mor follows Cassian upstairs after he arrives back at the townhouse after chasing Nesta on Solstice (and when he throws the mystery box in the river!)
Dinner Conversation (one-shot, CANON post-ACOSF)
One hundred and fifty years after ACOSF, Nesta and Cassian sit around the dinner table with the Inner Circle. And Cassian has an announcement.
Clouds Are Shrouding Us in Moments Unforgettable (Kinktober)
Nesta and Cassian have never been a couple that willingly deny themselves some action between the sheets. But when Cassian has to whip the Illyrian legions into shape for an entire week, as well as smooth out the disputes between unruly clans, Nesta and Cassian make a deal: no orgasms until they are reunited at the Spring Court to celebrate Calanmai.
But when Nesta eats some aphrodisiac-laced cherry pie whilst waiting for Cassian to arrive, the bargain they struck is immediately replaced with a base need for release. Nesta hurries to her room where she can finally be alone, but just as that orgasm begins to crest, Cassian catches her in the act.And they had a deal, did they not?
Warnings: NSFW, Spanktober, Dom!Cassian being sexy AF, orgasm denial, Nesta high on aphrodisiac
Alternative POV’s in Embers & Light
Prologue (Rhysand)
Don’t read until after chapter 35 of Embers & Light if you don’t want spoilers :)
Chapter 9 (Cassian)
Cassian sees Nesta’s scars for the first time. Protective Cassian™
Chapter 20 (Nesta)
Nesta witnesses Cassian in only a towel
Chapter 15 (Nesta)
Cassian finds Nesta has started her cycle and runs her a bath
Chapter 25 (Cassian)
Cassian tries to soothe Nesta’s nightmares and ends up sleeping beside her
Chapter 44-45 (Cassian)
Cassian struggles to cope without Nesta
Chapter 51 (Cassian)
Cassian is reeling after something monumental happens at the Lake.
Habits Universe (to be read in order)
1. Habits (NSFW one-shot):
ACOSF one-shot of Nessian smut on the premise that Nesta and Cassian sleep with one another in Illyria shortly after Nesta arrives. Angry sex turning into something softer... NSFW.
2. Wings, Flames and Shadows (NSFW)
Nesta/Cassian/Azriel play strip poker in Illyria. This is set in the Habits universe but can be read as a standalone. Seriously smutty.
3. Wings & Flames (NSFW)
Nesta & Cassian come together in the aftermath of his trip to the Winter Court.
Alternative POV’s for the Habits universe
Wings & Shadows (Azriel POV during Wings, Flames & Shadows):
During a state visit to Kallias's Winter Court, Azriel and Cassian deal with the consequences of their recent joining with Nesta and the truths Azriel learnt.
Modern AU’s
A Golden Opportunity
Blurb: For months Cassian had been waiting for the chance to take Nesta Archeron on a date. No, strike that, Cassian wouldn’t lie to himself. He’d been waiting for years, Mother damn it.
From the moment Cassian had first laid eyes on Nesta he’d known that there would be no-one else. Cassian couldn’t explain it, but he’d just known with a rattling clarity that startled him awake. There would be no more raucous lifestyle where he bedded anything that moved. There would be no half-assed dates that were clearly going nowhere or late-night hook-ups.
There was only one goal: to get Nesta to agree to go on a date with him and pray to the Forces that Be that she’d fall in love with him, too.
The Girl
Amongst the writhing bodies, Cassian spots her. Scarlet cami, hair like honey. He watches her for too long, the way her hips move to a rhythm nobody else quite seems to get like she does, the length of her ponytail as it swings to and fro.
When she turns and meets his eyes, he’s a goner. And at the end of night, when he backs her into his apartment, he realises quickly that whoever this girl is, she takes what she wants and he’ll take what he can get.
Notes: Well, it's here... the chapter you have all been waiting for. I can only hope that you like it and that it tugs at your heartstrings. This is my Valentine's day gift to all my wonderful readers who have stuck with me for thirty chapters for... this, I imagine. It's a start—a beginning for these two—as they step into something new. As usual, forgive any typos and I intend to reply to every one of you who commented on the last chapter. I'm so sorry for the delay in replying, things have been a bit crazy on my end, but I appreciate every single one of you.
ACOSF in two days...! And because I am desperately trying to keep spoiler free, please don't mention any snippets you may have received beyond SJM's teasers. That includes the leaked chapters—please keep it to yourself but of course, let me know what you think of the chapter and my inbox is open for any of you wanting to speak to me spoiler-free. Thank you so much <3
Chapter Thirty
Cassian
Pure, undiluted rage burned inside of Cassian. It roared, drowning everything out as he landed to a blood bath of winged males impaled with pine needles, charred ashen bodies and the evidence of killing blows. But Cassian only registered them because of the years of training that had been drummed into him to catalogue and analyse his surroundings.
His hands wielded twin swords as if they were an extension of who he was but his legs… they moved of their own accord, racing towards the opening of the cave without him asking them to. Towards that scent that Cassian had no problem detecting above the blood and shit and gore.
Behind him, Lorrian swore as they stepped over the threshold of the cave’s entrance, their siphons flashing and flaring to find rusty cages lining the walls and a pit of blood in the centre. The awful images of dirty abused girls registered as Cassian desperately scanned the cave—until his eyes fell on Nesta’s back. Her leathers were streaked in red and she was kneeling in a pool of blood before an injured girl who was wreathed in that wondrous, singing light.
Frawley appeared beside them in a swirl of smoke, moving in that way she often did that hinted she was more element than being, stopping them in their tracks a few feet away.
“What took you so long,” Frawley snapped to Cassian, one blue eye boring into him whilst the other flicked to Lorrian at his side, as if her attention could not help but be drawn to her husband. “Get Nesta out of the trance—now. Pull on that damned cord, do whatever you need to do. She channelled her energy from the fear and despair, but her body is dropping into exhaustion. She’s going to crash earlier than expected. We haven’t trained for this. Only you—”
Frawley’s voice tuned out as the crack of Cassian’s knee-caps jarred his body as he hit the rocky floor. Wet seeped through Cassian’s leathers, courtesy of the pool of fresh blood coming from the dead male to Cassian’s right, but he barely registered. He was too busy detecting the stale scent of arousal and death and cruelty. This was a male had no doubt stuck his cock where it did not belong and caused unimaginable harm to innocent, defenceless girls as they cried and struggled.
Anger soared into the snow ruffled peaks of Cassian’s fury at the thought and the cave… it quaked in response.
“Don’t bring the cave down as you do it.” Frawley’s words bit through him, her voice wholly ancient—too like Amren’s. “Put a leash on it otherwise we’ll be buried in rubble.”
It was easier said than done to reign in that snarling beast. But then time seemed to—change. From the moment Cassian pressed his back to Nesta’s and hoarsely began to chant her name, everything blurred and tumbled. As Cassian’s eyes shut of their own accord, the cave became as dark and depthless as a night sky devoid of starlight. As Cassian was pulled deep within himself, sucked inwards by a vacuum he had no control over.
The black Cassian spiralled down towards was as thick as tar, but to his right, a shadowed veil rippled in an invisible wind. It chanted in tandem with the screaming in his mind, that one word repeated over and over and over—a mate calling to its mate. A male calling to their beloved and hoping they were enough.
That beautiful healing lullaby had started to miss the right notes, the music falling into something off-kilter and gut-wrenchingly wrong. Panic rose like bile in Cassian’s throat and he reached for that twisted rope, and, without hesitating or second guessing himself, he tugged on it with all of his might.
The resounding crack and splinter in Cassian’s ears was awful. Pain threw itself down that bond and into the heart of his chest. And then, for a beat as that pain ebbed away, there was nothing… Even the healing music stopped. The quiet was so eerie Cassian could only hear his heart beating wildly in his ears. But then he felt it: fiery strength and steely determination. A light travelling down that tether to meet his, scenting of jasmine and vanilla—of Nesta.
Then Cassian was thrown outwards and his eyes opened to find the cave bleeding back into focus and that enthralling power dying at Nesta’s hands. Her magic dropped with such suddenness that she lost balance and careened backwards into his chest. The jolt had the world tilting again, but Cassian scrambled to collect himself, encasing Nesta safely in wings and arms.
By the time those smoky blue eyes snapped open and stared up at him, Cassian was already ferociously scanning Nesta’s body for injury. He catalogued every cut and scrape, every smear of blood. He turned her hands over in his to find them stained red. There was so much death on Nesta’s hands if the charred remains and bodies impaled with fiery weapons were anything to go by. This strong, sharp female fighting for what was right—to fight for those who could not defend themselves, even as it sent her spiralling into the darkest of places.
And Cassian knew it had effected her in unthinkable ways. Knew as he stared into those beautiful eyes that had held such life in the past month and found her pupils blown wide and unseeing. Felt the churning emotions that Nesta was too overwhelmed to keep in check as they hurtled down that bond between them. Frozen wrath and terror and agony. Each sensation a double-edged sword as it was plunged into the gut, over and over.
Fury clambered inside of Cassian at the injustice of Nesta’s magic. That not only was she burdened with the tireless task of keeping a check on her own heightened emotions, but others as well. Constantly monitoring them day in and day out so they did not become too much—so they did not swell and spill over the wall she had resurrected for herself. The wall that had been lowered so it was waist-high rather than a fortress—so she was not doomed to float through life numb and unfeeling and at a distance from others.
Understanding all of that—the sacrifice and burden Nesta carried—had the cave shaking again as Cassian ordered Nesta to put her walls up. Loose pebbles and dust rained down from the ceiling, and in the periphery, Cassian heard Lorrian swear and Frawley hiss, but that anger… he couldn’t control it. It was white hot and sizzling, boiling his blood and making his power itch. His siphons hadn’t stopped flaring since he’d first felt Nesta roaring down that bond and he’d known something was dreadfully, knee-tremblingly wrong. He and Lorrian had torn through the sky as he followed that invisible tie wreathed in light—emerald and ruby shooting stars tracking their way across the sky.
And now… that anger that had been pushing against his skin was morphing into something truly terrible—the monster who became consumed by blood lust. Just as he had that day when he’d slaughtered and tortured all of the males at the Spearhead camp—
A hand rested on Cassian’s cheek, cutting through that urge to massacre and ask questions later. The touch was grounding and so unquestionably right that he leant into that blood splattered palm, relishing in the cool, slim fingers which cut through that fire.
“Walls up, Nesta,” Cassian ordered, as he felt those talons hooking deep inside of her, clawing at her, tugging her down into the oily depths where he could not reach her. He watched those eyes glaze over until they were hollow, and even though that bond was open, everything went so unearthly quiet that Cassian would have thought some vital connection had been severed if it wasn’t for the faintest glimmer of her that sparked in the gloomy dark.
Everything moved too fast after that. And the entire time Nesta walked around the cave and clearing like a phantom ghost, even as she held her hands out to assist Frawley in healing any urgent injuries.
“We need a support unit or we need to get out,” Lorrian said roughly in Cassian’s ear, as together they surveyed the bastard tied to the tree. Nesta’s bindings still glowed silver and the bastard’s head hung limp against his chest from where Cassian had knocked him out.
“Frawley can cast a shield over this place so nobody can get in or out without our say so,” Lorrian continued, “but I don’t doubt that Ironcrest will have warriors out searching for us. Not after we left so abruptly without informing anybody of where we were going. I bet the first thing Rufous did was send a messenger straight to Marsh or Kallon. I suggest we leave and come back tomorrow with males we can trust to search the place.”
Kallon—the prince who none of them had seen all day. Not even in the sparring ring. And whilst Marsh hadn’t made an appearance, it was the latter that sent warning bells ringing in Cassian’s head. Something about it was off. All of them could all sense it, but right now there were bigger matters at hand. Namely what to do with the females.
“Can you host the girls at the cottage?” Cassian asked his friend. From the girls that had been able to speak, it was clear that all of them apart from Samra and Ailie had no parents to speak of. “Set up makeshift accommodation until we decide what we need to do?”
It was dangerous territory they were stepping into. A statement and the beginnings of power-play to take females from a camp, even if it was for their safety. Lesser actions had started wars between the clans, but Cassian would not stand by. Rhys wouldn’t either. Especially not when the males were wearing bands around their arms that Cassian was certain belonged to the rebellion.
“Of course we can,” Frawley announced as she came up beside them. Nesta and Sala were close behind. The manticore had stuck to Nesta like a shadow since Cassian had arrived, as if she too could sense that Nesta was far, far away. “It will be quicker if I channel us to the cottage.”
Lorrian was frowning with concern. “All at once?”
“Needs must,” Frawley clipped, but she did not meet her husband’s eye. “It will drain me after I cast a shield but I can do it. It does mean that I won’t be able to channel you and Nesta back to Windhaven. There won’t be room—”
“That’s fine,” Cassian interjected, with a quick cut of his hand through the air. “We’ll fly from the Steppes.”
“I can help.” It was the first time Nesta had spoken in a long while and it came out as a rasp. “I still have some magic left—to help heal the girls. I can heal their wings.”
Terror gripped at Cassian’s gut but he would not tell Nesta no. He wouldn’t take this from her—her ability to heal and bring life rather than take it away. Even though Cassian was tired, he could feel the whisper of Nesta’s magic churning back to life, no doubt fuelled from the sickening history that had seeped into the landscape.
Those eyes slid to Cassian as her chin tilted upwards. And although there was a fierceness to Nesta’s expression, something was missing, as if she wasn’t really there. “I can do it.”
He nodded to show he understood, just as Frawley added, “Caer has already gone on ahead to alert my sisters. They’ll come to help heal the injured. One of them can send word to Velaris for you, assuming that’s what you need to do.”
Cassian nodded. That was essential. Cassian needed to connect with his family to tell them what had happened here. He needed to let Rhys into his mind so he could showcase the horrors and get Azriel down to interrogate the bastard Nesta had thought to keep alive rather than bring about his death.
The male that Cassian knew to be called Alaksandar had struggled and thrashed against Nesta’s magical bindings when he had first spied the general—had pissed himself as he surveyed the iron rage on Cassian’s face. It had taken everything in Cassian not to murder him on the spot, but they needed him—needed the information he would bring once Azriel plucked out Truth-Teller from its shadowy sheath. Not that Cassian wasn’t tempted to wrestle the information out of the male himself.
Time sped by after that. Frawley obliterated the shattered remains of the shield hiding the cave from sight before casting an impenetrable web of her own. Then she had weaved another bubble—her magic a smoke that glittered with such gentleness that Nesta did not tense beside him. Cassian pulled her to him anyway, burying his hands in her hair at the nape of her neck. But Nesta did not look at him. Did not even seem to notice as they blended into smoke and mist—into water and earth and air—until they were channelled into the muddy paddock that served as a sparring ring at the back of the cottage.
Frawley’s sisters had kitted out the barn with inviting, spacious beds and cast their magic so it was wonderfully warm and inviting—safe. And even though Frawley’s sisters were far more intimidating than the white-haired witch, they had all dampened their glow, emitting an aura of calm that even made Cassian forget at times that they were something ancient—something other.
Cassian sought out Kalika as soon as they landed—the dark-skinned witch of the Northern Steppes and the most terrifying of Frawley’s sisters—and dared to ask her to cast a message to Rhys which disappeared on a moth-carried wind. Frawley’s other sisters—Narihara and Andraste—swished between the kitchen and the barn, remedying and administering sleeping draughts and tinctures designed to ease pain.
Frawley saw that all of them received her tea tonic and Cassian had felt energy flush into his system before it was promptly drained again as he ferried between the barn and the cottage, pressing drinks into Nesta’s hands whenever he saw her start sway.
Somehow Cassian knew when Nesta was done—when her body was close to giving out—the tea no longer enough to replenish her magic levels which had seen her hanging just barely on the precipice of her magic reserves. Nesta had not had enough power left to heal the cuts in the girls wings, but was able to knot bone and membrane back together. It had taken Madja weeks to repair the tatters of Cassian’s wings—the spell-work too intricate for even the most skilled of healers—but Nesta melded bone and membrane back together with an ease that others could not muster. Even Frawley’s sisters had eyed Nesta with cautious admiration, as if they could sense that celestial something inside of her that set her apart from everyone and everything. A queen on a much-earned pedestal.
Cassian found Nesta kneeling by another makeshift bed, her hands emitting that pure white light as they hovered over a set of bent and torn wings. The light was buttery soft rather than blinding white, and Cassian could tell from the way it sang softly that her power was a whisper of what it should be—just as his was. Despite the multiple brews he had drank, his siphons throbbing had ebbed to a flickering pulse, something which had Frawley eyeing him in that disconcerting way of hers as she brusquely waved at him to go home and come back when he was useful.
He had not protested. He wanted to get Nesta home. For her to convalesce in a place that was associated with safety and warmth. Where she could bathe and rid herself of the blood whilst he sat with an ear to the door. Where he could ensure that she ate and looked after herself. A place where she could be herself—where she could be quiet and digest and allow herself to be hollow if that was what she needed. But Nesta now—pretending to be ok when her eyes were so blank—was making it hard to breathe.
And still down that bond, Cassian felt nothing. Wide open, for once, but utterly empty—like a tunnelled-out void.
“Nesta.” Cassian touched his fingers so they rested gently against a shoulder. She did not reply or twist to look up at him, but the light faded from her palms, like a star winking out.
Cassian took a healthy step away as the girl Nesta had been healing watched him with wary, glazed eyes. He made himself smile at her, even as the girl shrank back into herself, pressing herself into the mattress as if she was willing herself to disappear.
For the first time in Cassian’s life, he wished he could vanish the wings and the tattoos—anything that marked him as Illyrian. That reminded the girl of the horrors she had suffered.
Bending over, Nesta spoke in such hushed tones to the girl that even Cassian could not hear her. But then Nesta was standing, her posture as steely and distant as she rose as if she were balancing a crown on her head. Narihara swooped in to administer the girl a sedative to help her sleep and Sala, who had been sitting on her haunches by the bed, rose to her feet.
Together, they walked in silence out of the barn. Cassian deliberately paced himself a few feet behind Nesta and the manticore who padded at her side. Dusk was well and truly descending and starlight already dusted the night sky. In the Steppes nature was its own creature and despite the cottage, it felt as if the sky was a tangible canvas, so low they could reach up and brush the starlight with their fingertips.
“Sweetheart,” Cassian rasped softly. He had intended to say something else, not that he knew what that was going to be, but as Nesta turned to him, speech left him. She looked so lost—so broken and traumatised—that Cassian felt as if he had been transported back to when she had first arrived in Illyria with him. When she was gaunt and traumatised and wholly unreachable.
Cassian’s blood-stained fingers lifted her chin so he could search her eyes. And in them—nothing. No whisper of that colossal fire or that fierce defiance that he loved. None of that at all. Only vast emptiness.
“I want to go home.”
The confession was small and almost childlike and Cassian nearly fell to his knees.
Home. She wanted to go home—with him.
Cassian pulled Nesta’s unnaturally pliant body to him. One hand fisting into the hair at the nape of her neck—into the tangled brown hair that had all but fallen from her braid. Nesta did not hug him back, but after a moment, she fisted her hands against his chest and her forehead came to rest just over his heart.
“Ok sweetheart, we’ll go,” Cassian murmured, dropping his lips to the crown of her head and pressing them there—instilling all the love and comfort into the gesture that he could muster. “I’ll take you home.”
***
Windhaven was sleeping when they finally landed outside of the bungalow with Sala close behind them. Even the skies had been quiet on the flight back: Cassian had only seen the odd Illyrian patrolling the skies, their figures a streak of darkness temporarily blotting out the starlight as they tracked the perimeter. They usually knew better than to stop Cassian mid-flight, but he had winked his siphons into the dark anyway, warning them to steer clear. The last thing they needed was to be stopped when they were so close to home.
The stone house was eerily quiet when they stepped across the threshold, and bobbing faelights gently flickered to life, illuminating the way as Cassian led Nesta by the hand down the hallway. He had been touching her at every opportunity since he had found her on her knees, covered in blood and her hands humming with that ancient healing light. Cassian had hoped the physical contact might anchor her, but Nesta had continued to slip away from him ever since, until their connection was nothing but an empty, lifeless corridor.
“Shower then bed,” Cassian told Nesta as he pushed open the door to the bathroom to reveal the large tub. “You’ll feel more fae once you have cleaned up.”
Nesta did not respond. She just stared past him, her pupils blown wide and unseeing. The sight nearly undid him. It had been a long while since he’d seen that look.
As he turned on the faucets and pulled the lever under the taps, Cassian wondered if this was how Nesta had been after the war. If whilst he and his friends had been toasting their success and trying to pretend everything was fine, she had gone up to her room, hollow and broken, already changed into someone else.
And the worst thing about it all was that Cassian had left Nesta to her own devices. He had not chased after her and reiterated what he had told her on the battlefield. Already he had been so consumed with the terror of rejection—the fear that now they weren’t on death’s door, Nesta might shatter his heart rather than allow him to kiss her.
It turned out that fear had only served to cement Nesta’s opinion of him—that he merely lusted after her, the bond tricking him into thinking he wanted something that he didn’t. That what his heart really wanted was Mor instead. Nesta had made that much clear the evening before.
He was a fucking idiot. Not just for failing to pursue Nesta, but for failing to intervene when he had known how sick she was. For not using his years of warrior training to understand what was truly going on—how it was not about him and his bruised ego, but something else entirely. Something much bigger.
Running a hand under the water, Cassian waited until it was hot and the tendrils of steam filled the room with its wispy fingers. When he turned back to Nesta, all it took was one look at her small and blood-stained body to know that if he left her to it, she’d stand in that shower long after the water ran cold.
“Usually we take our clothes off for a shower, sweetheart,” Cassian teased, hoping that his words would coax out some sort of reaction. When Nesta remained quiet, he cupped her pale, blood-streaked face with a hand. “Don’t finally give me that opportunity to undress you,” he warned.
Nesta’s fingers clasped around his arm and his leathers creaked at the impact. It was a silent plea for him to stay, so Cassian just gave her the lopsided smile he usually saved for her. “My lucky day,” he said softly.
Tugging off his stained clothing, Cassian stepped into the shower in his shorts. He bit back a groan as the hot water ran over his flared wings, soothing away the sharp cold which had bit into them as he flew them home.
After adjusting the temperature, Cassian held his hand out to Nesta. Her eyes were still devoid of expression, and although she was watching him, Cassian had a feeling that Nesta was really floating somewhere above them, detached from her body and unable to come back down.
“It’s nice and warm,” Cassian coaxed, but his voice remained a soft echo rather than playful.
There was a pause where time seemed to stretch out too thin. Where Sala looked beseechingly at Nesta with worried golden eyes. When the manticore nudged Nesta’s arm with her nose, Nesta startled, as if she had indeed been very far away.
He knew things were bad—very bad—when Nesta mutely peeled off her own leathers and joined him.
Cassian had fantasised about taking Nesta in the shower more times than he dared to count. It was usually hard and fast against the wall, her breathy moans ringing off the tiles as he made her come around him. It had never crossed Cassian’s mind that they might shower together covered in blood and still wearing their underwear.
Slim fingers curled around his as Nesta stepped into the tub and Cassian only had time to briefly note Nesta’s body had filled out—those sharp, skeletal edges softened with flesh and toned muscle built from hearty meals and rigorous training—before he realised just how cold she was. Goosebumps littered Nesta’s skin and her lips held a blueish hue that had alarm bells sounding inside of his head.
Wings and arms curved around her on instinct, coaxing Nesta under the water with him so he could cocoon her in heat. He foamed up a sponge, and when Nesta made no move to take it from him, Cassian gently began to run it over her pale skin—until dried blood smeared, running down her white skin before it swirled down the drain.
For the entire duration Nesta remained vacant and unresponsive. Yet, even though Cassian couldn’t feel the faintest flicker of emotion through their bond, he knew that she trusted him enough to care for her. So, when the water ran clear, Cassian did not ask for permission before he slowly started to unravel her braid. It was hard work—matted dark red ensnared the hair but after working shampoo into the strands, Cassian was able to run his fingers through without any snags.
Leaving Nesta to wash out the shampoo herself, Cassian started to make work on his own body. He was covered in far less blood than Nesta—by the time he’d arrived, it had been too late to massacre those bastards himself—but red coated his knees and legs from where he had dropped into the pool of blood on the floor. And his hands…they had been smeared with it from where he had held Nesta’s wrists, trying to coax her back to him as she plunged to rock bottom.
Cassian was so consumed by the memory that he was only just in time to catch Nesta tipping her head back under the faucet with her eyes wide open. A hand shot out reflexively, cupping Nesta’s hairline as shampoo started to run down her face and into the long spikes of her eyelashes. The bubbles must have stung, but Nesta didn't even blink. It was as if she hadn’t even noticed.
After that, Cassian didn't take his eyes off of her, and once Nesta’s hair was free from shampoo, he turned her in his arms so her back was flush against his chest and began to tackle her fingernails. Her body was so unusually pliant—so mouldable—that Cassian felt as if he were a puppet master with strings, her arms and hands limp as he scrubbed at the arcs of her fingernails until they were free of red.
In fact, Cassian had become so used to supporting Nesta’s body that he almost startled when he turned back from shutting off the now lukewarm water to find her facing him. Frozen in place, Cassian watched a pale arm lift so Nesta could brush her ice cold fingers over a whorl of ink curving around his left bicep.
Cassian was barely breathing—not only unsure of what to do but also of startling her, somehow—but then something broke inside of him and he reached for her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles for far longer than he should have.
It hurt to move away from her—to step out of the tub and wrap a towel around his hips—but Nesta had started to shiver uncontrollably, her skin entirely bleached of colour. He threw the largest, fluffiest towel he could find around her body, and desperate to warm her up, rubbed his palms over her arms, encasing her in wings as he lifted her onto the bath mat beside Sala. And whilst logic told Cassian that Nesta was shaking from a combination of both shock and cold, it didn’t stop the worry that took a hold of him.
“Get yourself dry,” Cassian told Nesta. “I’ll go and get you some clothes.”
Suppressing a grunt at the winter chill that clung to the air and snapped at his wings, Cassian lit the log burner in his room before he quickly tugged on some loose pants. The unconscious decision for Nesta to stay with him was already fully formed in his mind. There was no way he was leaving her to sleep alone given her current state, and whilst Cassian could sleep in the armchair by her bed, the territorial part of him needed her safe with him, in his bed, as close to him as she would allow. And after last night… it wasn’t as if they hadn’t shared a bed before, anyway.
The panic that flared inside of Cassian when he arrived back at the bathroom with a clean nightgown clutched in his hand was so sharp and twisting that his breath caught. Nesta hadn’t moved—not an inch—and whilst Sala was nudging her companion’s torso with her muzzle, Nesta just continued to shiver violently as if she hadn’t felt the impact at all. Her skin was still wet and her hair hung lank against her shoulders. Droplets of water dripped steadily onto the floor tiles from where she had failed to ring it out.
Cassian swore. Stumbling towards her, he grasped at Nesta’s shoulders with his hands. She was cold to the touch. “Sweetheart, we need to get you dry,” he rasped.
He ducked his head to look at her, but Nesta just curled in on herself, her arms wrapping even further around her body as she shook. Cupping her face in his hands, Cassian hoped that his touch would bring her out of the far reaches of her mind, but she just continued to tremble, mute.
So, with gentle, efficient hands, Cassian towelled Nesta dry before pulling her nightgown over her head. He pressed her hair gently between the swaths of a towel, coaxing out as much water as possible, and when he was satisfied her hair wasn’t going to soak her nightgown, he stepped back.
“You’re staying with me tonight,” he told her sternly, and not bothering to wait for the reply he knew would not come, Cassian scooped her uncharacteristically malleable body into his arms and carried her to his room.
The log burner was still blazing fiercely as he lowered Nesta onto the midnight blue sheets. He piled the duvets on top of her anyway, plus a few more thick blankets over that. Not wanting the fire to go out, he threw some more wood through the cast-iron door, working quickly in case the fire crackled or popped. With Nesta’s magic near drained, the last thing Cassian wanted was to trigger her flashbacks on top of everything else, but he was too concerned about her blue lips to forgo the fire altogether.
Only the top half of Nesta’s head was visible beneath the mountains of blankets, her pointed ears poking beneath her wet hair. She looked so small and vulnerable it was hard to believe that she had slain so many males earlier, that power of hers sizzling and burning through flesh until they were nothing but charred remains and shells of who they once were. Those males might have taken those girls freedom but Nesta had taken their lives before Cassian had even got to her.
He wondered when he would stop failing her—if he ever would.
“Come here,” Cassian murmured as he climbed into bed beside her.
Nesta surprised him when she did as he asked. Her knees knocked against his thighs as she inched closer—like a moth to a flame—and she rested her cold forehead against his chest without being prompted, right over his heart, as if the warm beat of life would thaw the frozen ice in her bones.
Tangling their legs together, Cassian tried to ignore how his skin hummed as their bodies intertwined, hating himself for reacting so strongly to her touch when she was suffering. He lifted a wing instead—an unknown apology—and wrapped it around her, using it to direct the heat from the fire towards their bodies.
The rustle of his wing made Nesta stir. Slowly, she looked up through her eyelashes and as their eyes locked, something clicked deep inside of him, turning. His heart let out a long, deep thump, the sound reverberating throughout his body. He felt it in the air at the same time that Nesta’s hands fisted in his tunic. The sensation was heavy and delicious and as intoxicating as any drug.
Their sudden intimacy felt so right. They had never touched like this—her body entangled with his—and now he knew what it was like, he never wanted it to end. He couldn’t bare the thought of sleeping without her. Even in his sleep last night he had reached for her, his wing protecting her instinctively.
He wondered if Nesta knew what that meant.
“Better?” Cassian made himself ask, rubbing a palm up and down the arm that wasn’t pressed to the mattress. It was a poor attempt to sever his thoughts, but his voice was hoarse… nervous. His heart had started to kick again, the sensation hard and slow against his ribcage, his blood thick and sluggish in his veins. Her eyes were the most blue he’d ever seen them; they were the colour of the sky after a strong bout of rain, as the clouds parted to make way for the sun.
Somehow, Cassian knew what was going to happen before it did. He couldn’t even say who initiated it, only that their heads tilted and dipped in unison, like two magnets inexplicably and undeniably drawn to one another.
If they ever kissed again, Cassian had always imagined that it would be passionate and frantic. A screaming match turned into a lusting frenzy, his mouth hot on hers as he swallowed her moans. But this… this was better. This was perfect. It was his undoing.
It was slow and scorching, the intensity of it so immediate that Cassian felt like he was suspended in time… hovering. And he knew… he knew that they were meant for this, he and Nesta. They were meant for one another from the instant their open lips brushed, from the way that they moulded together like they had been kissing for centuries. Heat bloomed in his chest, a torturous burning pleasure that spread through every nerve in his body, licking its way down his limbs before settling like a weight in his groin. His body was taut and pliant at the same time and all he wanted was to be even closer to her, to feel every inch of her body fit against his own.
He wanted to taste her skin, to bury himself in her scent. He wanted—
A groan rumbled through him as their tongues met, the sound deep and almost animalistic. Desperate for more, he tangled a hand in Nesta’s wet hair, gently tilting her head back so he could be granted better access to her mouth.
Nesta made a strangled noise in the back of her throat—the first sound she had made in hours—and her knee slipped further between his thighs, her body moving to press flush against his—
The movement sobered Cassian, the hazy fog of want parting slightly for reason to stumble through, like a newborn fawn on gangly legs.
The gravity of what they were doing hit him like a punch to the gut.
If she moved any closer, she would feel just how much he wanted her.
There would be no turning back, after that.
Even though his body was screaming for him to flip her onto her back and settle between her legs, Cassian made himself pull away. The movement felt wrong… agonising.
His hand shook with restraint.
If Cassian had ever doubted their mating bond, he wasn’t now. Instinct was driving him to claim her, even though he knew in the back of his mind—the part that cared so deeply—that Nesta was too raw, too exposed to know what she wanted. Even though she was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her, the territorial male in him wanted to bury himself inside of her; to solidify the very thing that had been driving him insane for the past year and a half. What kind of male did that make him, he wondered? He was ready to bet all his wealth that it didn’t make him a good one.
Panting, Cassian searched Nesta’s face. She was breathing hard, her lips pink and swollen, her hair already starting to curl in the heat from the fire. Cassian had always thought her beautiful, but now she was breathtaking. It took Cassian a few seconds to realise why and when he did, his heart contracted to the point of pain: the light was back in her eyes, as if their kiss had woken her up.
Cassian’s resolve wavered. Maybe this was what she needed. Maybe—
As if sensing his inner conflict Nesta slid a cool hand up to his neck, levering herself up to press her lips to his. Her leg rode up over his thigh… over his hip and he moaned into her mouth, his will splintering as he felt the desire thrumming through her—between them. He tightened his grasp on her, resisting the urge to slide his hand round to her ass. To tug her closer.
With a last long, lingering kiss, Cassian made himself tear his lips from hers. “Nesta, stop,” he murmured against her mouth.
She stilled then, and as the implication behind his words dawned on her, that light started to fade in her eyes; dazzling blue dulling to an unreadable grey. Cassian pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, to her nose, to her mouth. They were gentle and he hoped each one conveyed how hard this was for him, how he didn’t want to let her go, not really.
“We shouldn’t,” he rasped finally. His words sounded unconvincing even to his own ears, his voice husky and low despite everything. Sinful.
“Why?” Nesta breathed—her first word in hours coming out hoarse. Her fingers curled around his wrist where it still gripped her hip—holding him there.
“You know why. We can’t—”
“This makes me feel,” she whispered, her words breaking. And that was pleading in her voice. “You—”
“You’ll regret it tomorrow,” Cassian tried to explain, cutting her off because he had done this. He had fucked his way through enough females post-battle to know what she was doing. He understood the desperation for anything that would pierce through that pressing numbness that descended after bloodshed, but he also knew the disappointment that would chase it when she realised that pleasure didn’t last.
Cassian couldn’t sacrifice the progress they had made for a few moments of pleasure. Not now... not when they had come so far.
Nesta’s fingers slid down to his palm, the flat of her small hand pressing against his, encouraging him to slide up under her nightdress. He hissed—her thigh, her hip, her waist were sinfully smooth beneath his callouses. “I won’t regret it,” she promised. “You won’t either.”
Cassian studied her—the want in her eyes. What would happen if he denied her? Would he lose the progress they had made anyway? What if his rejection stacked that icy wall against him and she shut down the end of her bond again? He couldn’t bare the thought of it—of her barbed insults and the indifferent way she had treated him. He couldn’t do that again. Not ever. He had been slowly gaining on Nesta Archeron inch by inch, and he’d be damned if they started moving backwards.
It was a risk either way.
His greed won out.
Nesta’s mouth immediately yielded to him when he kissed her again, and this time it was her that moaned, the sound a strangled surprise in the back of her throat. Almost as if she hadn’t expected him to give in. Almost.
“Promise me,” Cassian murmured, his lips now on her neck as he propped himself over her. He allowed himself a moment to do what he’d fantasised about more times than he could count—graze his nose slowly from her collarbone to the nape of her neck—and relished in the way that she shuddered beneath him. “I don’t expect anything from you, this can just be... this. A one off. But promise you won’t freeze me out. That we won’t go back to before. That things won’t be cold between us.”
Pressing a kiss behind her ear, Nesta breathed another moan as he chased it all the way to the pulse point beneath her jaw. He sucked, feeling the flutter of life against his tongue—her body as it arched into him.
“I promise,” Nesta panted finally, her fingers curling around the strands of his damp hair. She tugged, telling him what she wanted, the words singing in the air between them; more, more, more.
As if in response, his blood surged, singing what it always sung—her name, over and over. The name he heard on the wind. Everywhere he went. Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.
“Good,” Cassian rasped into Nesta’s skin, his lips imprinting on the shell of her ear. He waited until goosebumps littered her skin and then he pulled back to stare into those blue, blue eyes to make his own promise. He hoped it would undo her as much as it undid him. “I’m going to make you feel good,” he told her. “I’m going to make the numbness go away, ok sweetheart?”
Something moved behind the surface of Nesta’s irises as she shivered. And this time it wasn’t from the cold or from shock; it was hot anticipation and want and… her breath caught as his palm traversed along her now warm side, along the dip of her waist, hitching the material of her nightgown up, up, up.
Her fingers tightened in his hair as his movements turned light. As his fingers trailed from the underside of her breasts all the way down her side to the top of her thigh, coaxing her to shudder—for every nerve ending to sing.
Their kiss was searing and desperate when she pulled his face back down to hers. All around him, Cassian could smell the all-consuming scent of her. It was as intoxicating as any drug and he couldn’t help but cave, rolling his hips into hers, desperate for some sort of relief. He had never been this hard in his life, had never wanted anybody like this in the long time he had been alive. He needed to feel her skin against his, the sensation suddenly as vital as breathing—
“Off,” he growled into Nesta’s mouth, tugging her nightgown over her head and tossing it away. He flared his wings, lifting the heavy blankets so he could kick them down to their ankles. and—
Cassian swore at the sight before him. Nesta was beautiful. Where his skin was golden and marred with scars, hers was cream and unblemished—untouched—and her breasts… Cassian’s mouth turned dry and his insides twisted. They were far better than the inferior image he’d conjured in his mind, even as he pyrite glittered tauntingly between them, as if to say; I was here first.
With a soft snarl, Cassian reverently dragged his fingers over the smooth plains of Nesta’s stomach, watching her abdominal muscles tense, mesmerised.
“You’re perfect,” he told her with hoarse honesty, cupping the breast closest to the mattress as he took the other dusky nipple into his mouth. He sucked and teased it with the flat of his tongue, relishing in her sharp inhalation of breath… the way her fingers desperately wound their way through his hair again and again. “These are perfect. You have no idea how perfect you are, Nesta.”
A flicker of…something sparked down that bond. It was the first he had truly felt of Nesta in hours and Cassian tried to clamp down on that emotion, to dissect it, desperate to hold on to that sensation of… surprise. It was surprise, Cassian realised. As if she did not expect him to say that, let alone think it.
So, Cassian pushed back everything—his sincerity and awe and want for her and only her. And then he stared up at her with what he knew were dark eyes and scraped the peak of her nipple with his teeth.
A shuddered moan skittered the air around them and Cassian watched Nesta’s pupils dilate with a want that had his heart kicking in his chest. It was that sensation which sparked her into action, her hands feverish as they grappled at the material of his tunic, tugging at it until it was discarded on the floor beside the bed. Then her hands were on his chest, those lithe fingers feverish as they explored the hard lines of his stomach… the silvery scar that ran from his sternum to his lower abdomen.
Burying his head in her cleavage to stifle a groan, Cassian listened to the hammering of her heart as she followed the fine train of hair that started at his naval. In a desperate plea to distract himself from her touch—to distract her—Cassian cupped and squeezed her breasts, rolling his fingers over her nipples until her breath stuttered and her hands stilled just as they grazed the waistband of his pants.
Knowing that his restraint would melt if she wrapped her hand around him, Cassian began to press a path of open-mouthed kisses down her stomach. They were both still lying on their sides and he lifted his body, coaxing her leg against the mattress into a right angle just above his hip so he was cradled between them.
When he hoisted the leg slung over his waist up into a right angle and pressed it up into the blanket with a splayed palm on her knee, Nesta realised what he intended to do. He felt her waver and stiffen, her body going rigid against him, that bond constricting. So Cassian stilled too, taking the time to brush his lips over the right wing of her hip—to savour the taste of her skin against his tongue. To soothe away her hesitancy, somehow knowing that the vulnerability of him sliding down between her legs made her uncomfortable.
The gravity of it hit him then, that Nesta had never done this sober. And Cassian had no idea whether she had even experienced this before—whether she had found pleasure in it. Did not know whether the many one-night stands had bothered to have her clenching around them before they finished themselves of.
Pain sparked as fingernails bit into his shoulders in warning, but Cassian only waited patiently, kissing and soothing away that concern until she relaxed around him. Some animalistic, masochistic part of him hoped that she’d marked him there—that tomorrow he would look in the mirror and see the proof of what they had done. He’d wear those silver half moon circles proudly, more so than any Illyrian tattoo. If only Fae bodies didn’t heal so quickly…
Placing a final kiss to her lower abdomen, Cassian grazed a downward path with the tip of nose until he was hovering just over her centre. Until his head was resting on her thigh.
He couldn’t stop the groan that tumbled out of him at the scent of her. “Gods, sweetheart, I can smell how wet you are.”
The words stretched out between them until everything was pulled taut. Nesta’s hands had moved from his shoulders back to his hair. When he spoke, her fingers slid uncertainly through the damp strands without finding purchase. He didn’t need to look at her to know she was blushing. He knew her well enough by now.
But instead of swiping his tongue through her folds, Cassian reached up to run his mouth over the top-most part of the inside of her thigh. The movement was leisurely and unhurried despite the roaring of blood in Cassian’s ears. Because he had thought about this enough since having met Nesta to know how he wanted this to go. Nesta had spent a year fucking and chasing release and Cassian would not be another notch in her bedpost. By the time he was done, he wanted her squirming and moaning beneath him. He wanted her to anticipate his touch rather than merely using him to press the right buttons. He wanted her to be consumed with it; to feel that anticipation build until she was boneless against the mattress. He wanted to be the kindle for her fire and watch her burn and burn and burn.
He would not fuck her in a whirlwind of limbs and snarled, panting breath. She had done that. He would do something different—just for her.
So, Cassian made Nesta wait. With each brush of his lips he edged closer to her centre, moving from her thigh to her lower abdomen, his tongue swiping against creamy skin after every kiss until finally—finally—she trembled.
The movement travelled between them, vibrating down the thin tie that roped around his ribcage. A soft growl rumbled from the back of Cassian’s throat at the sensation, his grip tightening on her hip as he ghosted over her centre, his breath a phantom caress on her skin.
Yet, he still took the time to pause, letting a second stretch out into a moment—until Nesta’s fingers pressed into his scalp in anticipation. The touch was light but it spoke volumes, the movement more certain. Still Cassian made her wait, trying to calm the desire thrumming through his blood which wanted to spark him into movement—to devour her whole.
Those fingers twisted through his hair and that restraint dissolved as Cassian reached forward and swiped the flat of his tongue through her folds. The action was slow and premeditated, his touch gentle. For a moment, Nesta went preternaturally still, but then her breath stuttered as he did it again and then again, her hips tilting towards him of their own accord.
It was silent plea for more and a moan tumbled out of him, his chest rumbling as he moved closer, locking his lips around that bundle of nerves. Nesta’s breath caught again and again and Cassian catalogued it all—every movement, every intake of air—using her body language to dissect what she liked and didn’t like, lazily drinking her in until that bond widened and roared at each leisurely stroke.
It was this that Cassian had imagined over anything else. He had fantasised about going down on Nesta more than burying himself inside of her—more than her wrapping her lips around him, or the way her tongue would feel when it ran along the underside of his cock. So, Cassian took his time tasting every inch of her, and only when he had her panting did he pick up the pace; drawing circles and fluttering rhythms across her flesh, licking a path from top to bottom until she was writhing beneath him, edging her closer and closer to breaking point, letting that swell build inside of her until even he could feel it in the air around them—a tangible, living thing.
And down that tether Cassian felt the truth in every whimper... every moan. That alone nearly had him unravelling. Never before had he felt her so keenly, and Cassian had to fight the urge to drop his hold on her leg to wrap his hand around himself and relieve the pressure. He was rock hard, and even though his cock twitched with each burn of pleasure that flooded between them, he didn’t dare divert his focus from her. Didn’t dare make this about him when it needed to be about her.
Cassian had never been this turned on without having been touched before. He had never been this turned on period, and he didn’t trust himself not to cave if he so much as grazed the tent in his pants. And the knowledge that earlier she had moved to slide her hand beneath his waistband… just the thought of those cool, slim fingers wrapping around the length of him made his cock throb and his heart stutter.
Growling to rid himself of the image, Cassian sucked her folds into his mouth. The distraction didn't work. Nesta cried out and the sound had his hips thrusting, pleasure robbing him of any other sensation despite the fact that he was met with nothing but air. The sound was sharp and desperate and perfect, and he knew that he could do this all day; bringing her to completion over and over until she couldn’t take it anymore.
“You taste incredible,” Cassian groaned reverently, pulling away for the first time since he’d slipped down between her legs. His lips made a gentle smack against her wet flesh and Nesta whimpered, the sound a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.
Another long lick followed by slow, wet kisses to her thighs—anywhere but her swollen clit.
He still wanted her to beg. He needed her to, and she wasn’t there yet.
Coaxing her onto her back, Cassian carefully hooked her legs over his arms so they avoided his wings. He had a feeling that if Nesta even so much as brushed them that something would snap inside of him; a beast unleashed.
Spreading her legs wider, Cassian reached up to cup her breasts, satisfaction thrumming through him as she arched into his touch.
Staring up at her with dark eyes, Cassian looked at her for the first time since he’d slipped between her legs. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her pink lips parted. He wished she’d open them; he wanted to be met with that depthless blue that latched onto his soul and made it hard to breathe.
“Fuck Nesta,” he groaned, his voice gravelly as he gathered her wetness on his tongue, drawing broad circles before sucking the bud into his mouth. “I could do this all day just to hear you moan.”
Nesta whimpered at the words, the sound wild and untamed against his ears, but her eyes remained squeezed shut. Gently, he dragged his fingers through her wet folds, purposefully running them over the sides of her clit, relishing in the way that her hips jerked at the touch. At the way that bond continued to widen, light spilling into the inky dark.
A wave of fresh pleasure coursed through him.
“That’s it,” Cassian murmured huskily, slipping a finger inside of her. He bit back a groan—wishing it was his cock easing into her. “I want you to come for me, sweetheart.”
Nesta mewled as he brought his mouth back to her. Curling a finger inside of her, Cassian focussed his attention on drawing wide circles with his mouth, coaxing strangled throaty moans as his finger and tongue worked in tandem.
Only when Nesta’s cries were a steady beat and her fingers were yanking at his hair, did he add another finger.
“Oh,” Nesta whimpered, her head rising from the pillows as he hooked his fingers inside of her at the same time that he drew her folds into his mouth. As he rolled her nipple between his fingers with his spare hand and dared another look up at her.
He groaned as those blue, blue eyes connected with his. They were glassy and swimming in the faelight, utterly mesmerising as her face contorted with pleasure. Nesta had never looked at him like that before; so open and vulnerable and soft.
It only lasted a moment and then Nesta’s head had dropped back onto the pillow in concession of the pleasure coursing through her—through him. It urged him to work faster, to continue his attention on that bundle of nerves that was hurtling her to release. As he splayed his palm on her flat stomach and relished the way it spasmed beneath his touch with every swipe and lick and suck.
When she rocked against him, Cassian’s moan was so coarse that Nesta clutched at his head with a near death grip. She held him tightly as the sound vibrated through her, but then Cassian was scraping his teeth lightly over her clit before sucking it into his mouth and Nesta cried out. Her legs attempted to yank out of his grasp to clamp around his head with a strength Cassian should have predicted for, but he managed to pin her down, holding her open.
“Cassian,” Nesta gasped—finally, finally saying his name out loud—her voice breaking and desperate as she tried to push her hips towards his mouth, begging. She was begging him now. “Cassian.”
“Yes,’ he growled, sensing how close she was. “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”
He felt her walls grip around his fingers like a vice. Felt something peak inside of her—
And then Cassian slowed everything down. His fingers slid in and out of her, pushing in to the hilt in long, drawn out strokes as his tongue circled her—as that preternatural stillness seized her again. Cassian heard the break in her moans as that cresting pleasure suspended above them, ready to crash down. Felt the pleasure course through him so fiercely that for a moment he mistook it for his own—
The sudden cry that unleashed itself on the room was a sound that Cassian had never dreamed would come from Nesta’s mouth. He stroked her steadily through the waves of pleasure as she shattered against his tongue, convulsing beneath him again and again until her whimpers gave way to shuddering gasps. Until she shuddered from the intensity of it, her hands pushing his head away. Cassian allowed her limp and panting body to melt into the mattress as he pressed kisses to the bare skin of her thighs. Her fingers were back in his hair again, running through the strands that had dried into curls before she tugged gently, urging him upwards.
Swiping at his wet mouth, Cassian crawled back up beside her, pulling the blankets with him.
To his satisfaction, Nesta had thrown an arm across her flushed face and her chest was heaving, as if she were at loss for air. She didn’t resist when he moved her arm to the pillow, threading his fingers through hers.
She moaned softly against his lips as he kissed her. The sound was content—another noise he’d never heard from her before—and the knowledge that he had caused her to feel that way left him dizzy. Surprise speared through him as her hand curved around the back of his neck, keeping him there, deepening the kiss as she tasted herself on his tongue.
And down that bond, beyond the sated satisfaction and pleasure was amusement, as if she sensed his surprise and delighted in it.
“Ok?” he asked hoarsely when he finally pulled away. He rolled to the side, taking her with him, his hand splayed on the underside of her thigh, his wing thrown over her body like a blanket.
Nesta’s eyes were glazed as she hummed in reply, and a knowing smirk pulled at her lips as she skimmed her free hand down his bare chest to his stomach and his muscled twitched under her touch.
Locking her leg firmly around his hips, Nesta pulled him flush against her. He snarled softly against her neck when she ground into his erection. His blood was boiling again, a heat ignited in his very core, and it was an entire feat of its own that he managed to tear himself away from her, catching her hand just as those fingers dipped to slip between the hem of his pants.
He watched Nesta frown, and the expression on her face was so unchecked that something twisted inside him.
She wanted to touch him. She wanted more...
“I said I’d make you feel good,” he rasped in explanation, bringing her hand to his lips so he could press his mouth to her knuckles
When he was done, he gently ran a hand over her hair. “Sleep, Nesta. Your body needs to rest.”
“What? No,” Nesta protested, that defiance he had missed for the last few hours firing across her expression.
But he just pulled her closer to him, and unable to help himself—knowing that he might not get another chance—he kissed her again. It was slow and tender, his fingers pushing back her damp hair from her face. It was a kiss to soothe rather than to arouse, even as his cock throbbed painfully against his stomach. His thumb brushed an arc across the glowing skin of her cheek, savouring the ability to touch her like this; without fear of her pushing him away, or worse, punching him in the gut.
“Sleep,” he urged again, wrapping his wing tighter around her—cocooning them. He felt Nesta’s body start to relax into the mattress, felt the blanket of sleep settle over her in that post-climactic haze. He pressed his mouth to her forehead—now warm beneath his lips, as if he had chased away the cold. “I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”
